


Mutual Masturbation

by Harukami



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M, Other, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 17:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1235389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba's desire would do just about anyone, including Aoba. </p>
<p>Yes this is blatant Aoba self-cest ty Christi. Set after True Route.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutual Masturbation

Reintegrating a second personality isn't as simple as deciding to; they're taking baby steps with each other, figuring out each other's boundaries and how to both fit into the same space without strangling the other or shoving the other into darkness or dominating the other. They don't become 'one' even if they're both Aoba, but they become less at odds, at least, can acknowledge each other's edges.

Mostly, Aoba hears 'his voice' more. It's like his distant memories of childhood (but distinctly more adult) rather than his teenage years when he'd already started denying that those voices were 'people' and was just influenced by him to do all kinds of wild things. The voice is there and steady and background and 'not him' but real enough.

He tries to differentiate him sometimes, tries to come up with names his other self always denies. He tries Sly for a while, after his old Rhyme name -- knowing now it was basically the other doing Rhyme in his stead -- but just gets laughed at. _I hope you start calling the piercings freak Ruff now too; it's as much his name as Sly's mine._

_You could come up with one--_

_I have one_ , his other self retorts. _It's 'Aoba'._

Mostly, to differentiate them when thinking of the voice as the 'other' self, he just ends up referring to him as Desire, because that's his role, and at least the other one doesn't deny it, though he usually gets mockingly called 'Reason' in return. 

But 'Desire' is a good term, role aside. The other Aoba _wants_. He wants everything he sees and craves experimentation, trying things that are new and different and a little gross or weird. Aoba had never thought himself capable of this level of libido, which--

_Technically you weren't, because you shoved that all off onto me and pretended I didn't exist, didn't you?_

\-- Well, yeah.

But it's almost hard to function sometimes. When Noiz comes around the shop to ask him about Rhyme, it's not only his other self's encouragement of _Why not? I can take him_ , it's the follow-up of _and I'd love to, if you take my meaning. I bet his cock's pierced_.

And then he has Noiz giving him weird looks because he's gone red while he's yelling inside, _Why would you even think that, who would even do that??_

_Bet it'd feel good all up in me._

Which is not really a helpful exchange to have in public.

And he's like that about nearly everyone. Clear? _Gas mask aside, who wants to look at his face? Look at that body. He tries to hide it, but I wanna jerk off on those abs._ Koujaku? _Fuck, he only knew the nice boy side of you, didn't he? He missed all our glory years. I could show him a thing or two._ Mink wasn't even around any more and sometimes he'd hear a distant wistful _I bet he could wreck us_ , as if that had not been a legitimate concern at one point.

Ren, at least, helps him with it, as well as being -- of course, basically, the love of Aoba's life. Ren knows it's both of them in there, Ren accepts that it's the both of them in there, Ren _understands_ what it's like to be in there and hear voices from all sides and Ren was once them both the way they're themselves. And Ren has a libido that almost matches Desire's (Aoba's, if he's honest with himself, which Desire tries to hold him to). It's not that he's an outlet so much as when his blood's up from Desire nattering at him all the time, Ren's always willing to meet him with an equal heat -- they fuck for _themselves_ , hard and often, make love slow and sweet and rough and hard and with teeth and nails and his thoughts always find a peaceful harbour with Ren for a while. And it's enough to sate that edge of commentary, even drive Desire into a sleepy contentment, trailing fingers against Ren's chest with a tired possessiveness. And they're together most of the time, so that's that.

But not always, and as the months go by, there are more and more reasons for Ren to go out without Aoba. It's not something either of them are totally comfortable with -- not having the other nearby is hard. But Aoba has to go to work anyway and Ren has to practice socialization (and does, with that intense seriousness of his that Aoba finds so charming and Desire finds so hilariously nostalgic) and some days he comes home and Ren has gone out on an errand for Tae, or out with Koujaku (an awkward friendship that has been struck up there, but Aoba's happy to see it regardless, and Beni couldn't be happier or more envious), or something of the sort.

Desire's been particularly noisy today, almost harassing Aoba, and it's to the point that he's kind of laughing, as much on the inside as he can manage. Desire is hassling the customers instead of the other way around, Desire is making innuendo about _Yoshie-san_ , and Aoba's pretty sure this is some kind of weird euphoria about finally being free or something. At least it's better than when he's a darker mood, than the violence and pain that he dips into sometimes as a want instead.

_Is there anyone you wouldn't fantasize about?_ he asks, as he unlocks the door and heads inside.

_Granny_ , Desire shoots back immediately.

"Granny, I'm home!" he calls. _Thank you for that,_ he adds. _Seriously, thank you._

Tae doesn't respond, and Aoba pushes past the immediate compulsive concern, checks the table for a note and finds one. So she and Ren were both out for now.

_There's someone I haven't but could have right now_.

"Uh-huh," he mutters aloud. "Who's that?"

And then he sucks a breath of air because he feels his own hand running over his fly, letting the vibration of it run through to his skin. He hadn't done it consciously and he looks at his hand as if it's unfamiliar.

_Let's fuck, Reason~._

"Are you kidding?" he mutters, and gets himself out of the hallway, heading up the stairs and keeping his hand firmly on the rail. "That's just masturbation?"

_Is it, though?_ Desire breathes it in a tone like it's almost on the inside of his ear, and he feels his legs grow sluggish, direct him to the bed against his will. He sprawls down against it and catches himself with an indrawn breath. It's erotic in a way that he feels like it shouldn't be. _Well, I'm you, so I guess so._

"No..."

_No?_

He doesn't follow up on the thought, not to himself, and certainly not aloud as he slides fingers into his own mouth without really meaning to. He sucks on them, shudders at the double sensation of his own fingers, his body acting without him being the one directing it, his other hand shoving up under his shirt to grab and pull at one of his nipples, shamelessly rough.

Aoba's getting hard already and doesn't fight it, doesn't resist, just thinks, _You're so embarrassing,_ and gets a laugh, a _you're just so embarrassed over nothing_ in return.

He pulls his hand out of his mouth, drops it to take his dick out -- if Desire wants him to jerk off, he might as well just go ahead -- and feels his hand stop against his will. Instead, it rises, rubs against his throat, combs up through his hair and lets it shower down against his neck again. It feels weird, like it's not quite his, erotic, and he shudders against the sensation of his wet fingers rubbing against his pulse, tangling in his hair.

"You..."

_Me. Us._ Desire laughs again, that manic, whispery sound. _Yeah, it's all about us right now._

"Hnn..." He strains for a moment, thinking that he should stop this, should just go and -- what, calm down? He's already hard, and it's not like he can just jerk off to take the edge off, not with Desire wanting to make it some kind of production. His breath comes out in a rush and he thinks this is shameful--

_You always think things like that; why do you think I'm like this? You're a fucking scandal, that's what,_ Desire breathes, and Aoba knows he's right, surrenders. _You want it, you want it, you want me--_

"I want," Aoba breathes, and lets Desire move his body. His hands move like they're possessed, fingers combing over his skin, twisting a nipple when they pass over it, dragging nails down his own chest to his waistline. One hand drops and rubs himself through his pants, and he rocks his hips into it, mouth falling open as he breathes in shallow needy gasps.

_Let's get even closer._

He gets his jacket off at least, but not his shirt, not his pants. His shirt gets raked up above his nipples, his pants shoved down just to his knees, only far enough that he can part his legs a little, scratch at his own thighs, rub at his cock, his balls before dragging his hand up again, sucking on his fingers. They feel good, thick in his mouth, and he knows without having to use words between them where Desire plans to put them, rocks his hips up into the air in anticipation. 

_You're right, why wait?_ A finger shoves into himself and he gasps at the sudden stretch, pressing it deeper even as he wants to twitch his hips away. His other hand scratches at his chest again, and he can see himself bringing up red welts on it, but it doesn't hurt at all, feels amazingly good, especially when his fingers pass back over his chest gently a moment later, a caress sliding up to his neck, to his cheek, his jaw.

"Ah," he breathes, as his thumb presses his tongue down, as his finger slides deeper into himself. He jolts as a second finger presses in beside the first but couldn't protest even if he wanted to, not with his other hand toying with his tongue. It's fine; he doesn't want to.

_Hot and tight around me_ , Desire whispers. _But this time you won't strangle the life out of me, hm?_ His fingers slide from his tongue and curl around his dick, stroking. For a moment, it's just a simple moment of pleasure, fingers stretching himself -- he can't get them deep, but that's fine, it's just additional sensation -- and his hand smooth and slick and brisk on his cock, dragging out his pleasure.

And then his confined knees, pants tangled around them, move without his willing them to, twist and shove as he struggles in his own body, a sensation like being tangled in the bedsheets, and he finds himself struggling to breathe with his face in the pillow, hips in the air, fingers working in his ass and hand jerking himself off briskly, pumping him while he squirms helplessly in this position, totally submissive and dominated by nobody but himself, hardly able to hear the cries being wrenched from his body as pleasure floods him, as he feels Desire enjoying doing this to him, as he feels himself enjoy Desire doing it to him, as he feels himself enjoy submitting and himself enjoy dominating and his touch on his outside and his inside and both of their pleasure and himself, himself, himself--

He comes across the sheets with a strangled cry, cheeks and ears flushed, struggling to get enough air to recover from it, limbs growing weak as Desire releases control over them, and slowly slumps down off his knees to his side, fingers sliding from himself, hand loosening on his cock but still holding it in a loose grip, like he doesn't actually have the energy to let go.

"Wonder f'I can do the laundry b'fore Ren gets back up here," he mutters, drool cooling between his cheek and the pillow.

_Nah, leave it. Let Ren stick his face in it later and get all wound up._

"You're the worst."

_I'm you._


End file.
